


Absinthe-minded

by Sleepless_Malice



Series: Fëanorian Week 2018 [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Alcohol, Day 1, Drug Use, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Shenanigans, Feanorian week, Festivals, First Kiss, Fëanorian Week 2018, Guilt, Hallucinogens, Humor, Incest, M/M, Maedhros meets Maglor's artsy friends, Sleepy Cuddles, Valinor, and is quite shocked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-03 16:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: At a party, Maedhros meets Maglor’s (awful) artist friends and is quite shocked by their openly displayed brazenness.– written for Fëanorian Week 2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for the incest in Chapter 02 and the drugs. Chapter 01 is basically Maedhros meeting Maglor's awful friends although I added the tags for Chapter 02 already. All characters are of age.

**Absinthe-minded**

*****

 

Even as he stepped through the glittering curtain veiling the entrance to the garden, Maedhros knew it was a terrible mistake to come along. The air was heavy with smells, some quite familiar to Maedhros whereas others, especially the strange sweetness wafting through the air, were not, making him cough.

_‘It is unfair!’_ Maglor had told him, pouting, the moment Maedhros had politely declined the invitation to join him to the party his artist friends yearly hosted. _‘You’ve joined Curvo on more than one occasions to his science parties, and if I remember correctly you have even joined mother.’_

Maedhros hadn’t had a decent excuse for his brother as to why he was in no mood to join, apart from the rumors he had often heard, especially from Finrod, and his own brother’s state of mind for days after each year’s party. For days, Maglor was not truly himself, deadly tired with black circles beneath his eyes, speaking nonsense to everyone he got hold of.

_‘Why?’_

Maglor could be so terribly annoying.

_‘Because I do not want to.’_

The argument between them had spread over many days until at last Maedhros had reluctantly agreed.

Now, stepping further inside the decorated garden, ushered forward by an impatient Maglor, there was no turning back and Maedhros cursed himself for his foolishness. It felt as if he had set foot into a parallel world, which was usually concealed from his eyes and before Maedhros could fully decide if he liked the kind of music that was being played, Maglor introduced him to one of his female friends.

As if raised by goblins, Maedhros stared at her in bewilderment. One side of her head was completely shaved with intricate patterns of black ink adorning the skin there. Amidst the patterns, letters speaking of rebellion stood out. But that was not what startled him most; it was her eyes with pupils so wide that the entire iris was consumed. She looked at him with a crooked smile, but then Maedhros realized that her eyes were strangely unfocused. It was as if she looked through him and beyond, into a world that was still hidden from Maedhros’s eyes.

_‘I should not have agreed in the first place,’_ Maedhros thought, letting his eyes drift across the venue.

Scantily clad men and women stood around tables with burning incense and small brown cookies in its middle. Some were not even dressed at all, Maedhros realized in horror. He certainly was overdressed in his burgundy robes but so was Maglor. That Maedhros didn’t quite understand – his brother should have known how to dress accordingly?

Well, Maglor had, as his actions a moment later confirmed. With quick fingers Maglor unbuttoned the blue robe he was wearing, revealing a light tunic of silver fabric, strangely translucent, and plain grey breeches underneath it. The robe had merely acted as a disguise as their father would never agree of such flimsy clothes being worn in public.

“You could have told me!” Maedhros hissed quite angrily.

Maglor shrugged, then smiled, his voice a melodious tease. “Surely you are wearing something underneath it.”

Maedhros was about to say something but then did not, which earned him a quizzical look from Maglor.

Waiting for the answer that never came, Maglor tilted his head. “Or not?”

As Maedhros’ cheeks began to heat up, Maglor burst out laughing, much to Maedhros’ discomfort. “Quite interesting. I never knew,” Maglor said with a wink.

Maedhros elbowed his brother into the side. “I’d highly appreciate if you could keep that knowledge to yourself.” Somehow Maedhros doubted that Maglor would for the simple reason that he was prone to babbling about all and everything once he was drunk.

“Worry not, brother mine,” Maglor said before he left Maedhros’ side and disappeared into the night.

Maedhros watched him go.

_‘And now?’_ he thought to himself, having not the slightest clue what to do exactly. He had never felt so entirely out of place as tonight, not even on the opening of his mother’s exhibition. But then, nobody had bluntly stared at him without any trace of shame, undressing him with hungry eyes.

Usually, Maedhros didn’t have any problems socializing or even flirting. In fact, he was quite good at it but that was at ordinary festivals being hosted by other noble houses, following the traditional protocol of court. Thinking about it, Maedhros wasn’t even certain if this party followed any rules and regulations.

Just as he was about to turn around to at least get himself something to drink a stranger with an intricately braided beard appeared next to him, offering him a glass filled with sparkling wine. Politely, Maedhros thanked him with a smile. The eyes of the stranger were adorned with tiny crystals along his eyelashes and beyond that now sparkled in the firelight. Maedhros was no complete stranger to make-up as occasionally Maglor highlighted his eyes with black kohl, but never before had he seen such a piece of art. It must have taken hours to apply.

They chatted for a while about topics Maedhros truly had no idea of and therefore the entire conversation was quite one-sided; the other did not seem to mind however, speaking without a halt for many minutes. A young lady appeared next to the bearded elf, placing her arm casually around his shoulders. Then she kissed him, first on the cheek then on his mouth.

“So you are together?” Maedhros asked for reasons he didn’t truly know and immediately regretted it.

She smiled at him. “Me and him, you mean? Sort of. We are all together, one way or the other,” she said before she took a puff from a strangely shaped pipe entirely made out of glass with a water reservoir at its bottom. Maedhros had never seen something like before. At least he now knew from where the strange smell came from. Exhaling the smoke, she went on, having realized his bewilderment, “Don’t look at me like this.”

“How do I look at you?”

“Judging! Anyways, it doesn’t matter. We are a large family of friends with similar interests and views of the world. Sometimes, we are together for a few hours, sometimes even less. Sometimes it is him and me, or somebody else joins us. Are you perhaps interested?” she whispered, now sounding quite excited. “I always wished to fuck a ginger but it’s so rare.”

By then, Maedhros cheeks gleamed a burning red and all eloquence had dissipated from his voice. “No,” somehow he managed to say.

Neither offended nor hurt, she offered, “If you should change your mind – I’ll be around.”

Then both of them were gone, much to Maedhros’ relief.

Choosing a drink for himself from the nearby tables and some of the chocolate cookies which tasted strange but fantastic, Maedhros aimlessly wandered through the garden, noticing small groups of people scattered everywhere. That it was beautifully decorated was undeniable; little fires seemed to burn everywhere, and where not, candles have been lit to create a pleasant atmosphere. Tables of different sizes were placed throughout the gardens, some bigger ones with chairs to sit at, whilst others merely provided space to stand around, some along the main walkway whilst other were placed behind hedges.

On marble benches kissing couples sat, lost in their own world and the beauty of a moment, not bothering to take advantage of the areas constructed to offer more privacy. Such openly displayed affection among strangers felt odd to Maedhros, yet at the same time he could not look away.

It didn’t take a genius to realize that the private areas were used for a specific purpose, offering invitations without words. Only then, almost afraid of getting caught staring, he moved on.

Among the countless Elves sitting around the large fire, he spotted a few of Irmo’s Maiar, inhaling the smoke from a water pipe. Blue thick smoke wafted around them, as one by one they started giggling like children. If the smoke provoked such behavior or an obscene joke couldn’t tell. It was said that many strange plants grew in the Gardens of Lórien but that they were readily smoked was new to Maedhros.

Every now and then he saw Maglor passing by, sipping at cups filled with summer wine, idly chatting with whomever he met in an extremely friendly manner. He was like a butterfly, shimmering in the brightest colors, who relentlessly swarmed from one flower to the next, never settling down longer than a few moments. Although Maedhros did not quite like the comparison, it fit incredibly well. Maedhros noticed something else: over the course of time Maglor’s steps had become quite insecure, rather swaying from one side to the other than actually walking. It was no surprise his brother had always been hungover for days in the past, Maedhros thought as Maglor disappeared behind a hedgerow.

As time went by the garden became more and more crowded and the conversations he overheard were often outright obscene. Everybody seemed to have freed themselves from society’s expectations, in spirit and body and somehow, Maedhros envied them, at least a little.

What part Maglor played in their strange form of living, Maedhros found himself wondering more often than not.

Did he smoke those strange weeds that were frequently offered to Maedhros himself?

Did he partake in fleeting affections for a night or two?

Although none of this was any concern of his, strange sparks of jealousy began to flare and his fingers began to tingle. He had not had more than a few glasses of wine, so he could hardly be drunk by any means, yet he felt as if he was. Maedhros swallowed a couple of times to force vague nausea back down, taking another bite of the cookie which still was in his hand despite the dryness of his mouth. Eating had always helped against intoxication though sweets were usually not his first choice.

Fixing his eyes on the candle closest to him he watched the geometric patterns, yellow, and pink, and red, that wove around its flame, leaping high up in the sky. Sometimes he saw such strange colors coming from the fire in his father’s forge, whenever alloys were mixed and blended. More time passed in which Maedhros simply stood there and watched the strange sparkles of light, not being able to make sense of it.

Soon, however, his thoughts were diverted by an unexpected touch against his backside. Almost bumping into the male elf, dark-haired just as Maglor, he spun around.

Maedhros, surpassing the other by almost two heads, narrowed his eyes in warning, without success though.

The elf before him just chuckled. “Just wished to know if it felt as good as it looked.”

Maedhros could not quite believe what he heard. “Excuse you?” he said, surprised at how strange his voice sounded to his own ears. Feeble and weak, babbling.

“Are you always so .. tense?” the elf was saying, blinking and anger began to bubble in Maedhros’ stomach, mingling with nausea that all of a sudden was back. “I’m a sculptor and magically drawn to buttocks, my apologies for that. But now, that my suspicions are confirmed, would you be willing to pose for my latest work of art? A marble statue, full size and all muscle that wears a golden necklace about its throat.”

Maedhros rolled his eyes and left upon such brazen behavior. He didn’t even know his name, yet the other had the impertinence to ask him straight away if he was willing to model for a nude sculpture.

It was then that Maedhros decided he had seen enough. Finding Maglor, however, proved difficult, as if he was hiding from his brother. At last, he found him among a couple of others and tried to gesture him in silence. Maglor saw him more than once but decided to purposefully ignore him. Maedhros tried again, without any success and slowly the anger sparked anew. Usually, Maedhros wasn’t impatient or impulsive by any means, even if provoked but Maglor’s impertinent behavior simply bade for it.

Breathing in sharply, Maedhros stepped towards where Maglor stood and gripped his arm perhaps a bit too hard to walk him towards corner a bit quieter. As expected, Maglor protested but Maedhros would have none of it, he could have interrupted his conversation in the first place.

“I’m no child, Nelyo,” Maglor muttered.

“Then don’t behave as one!”

Beneath his fingers, Maedhros felt his brother’s pulse quicken as if the touch provoked a familiar thrill of anticipation. Narrowing his eyebrows, Maedhros wondered but didn’t question him; most likely it was the result of something Maglor had consumed throughout the past hours, things which Maedhros hadn’t even known to exist before that night.

Without doubt, he was quite familiar with the mushrooms their mother occasionally served, those brown ones especially Caranthir hated, those that looked like ordinary mushrooms – not a wicked blue something, glowing strangely in the light of the mingling. Maedhros had politely declined to try a mouthful whenever he was offered them and had stuck to the summer wine being served instead. If Maglor however had, Maedhros was not so certain anymore. He doubted it.

With Maglor swaying uncontrolled, the only possibility to move his brother towards where Maedhros wished him to go was to wrap his arm around his waist and walk him towards a nearby table which thankfully was empty apart from a few bottles standing in its middle. With a groan, Maglor sat down on the bench and Maedhros followed, losing the grip on his brother’s arm.

“Your friends,” Maedhros began, watching Maglor pulling a bottle filled with green liquid, looking quite toxic, towards them.

“Are quite unique, I know,” admitted Maglor, smiling like an idiot as Maedhros did not fail to observe as he filled a glass with the green liquid.

“Lovely drink,” commented Maglor said, rather to himself than to Maedhros.

Maedhros crossed his arms in refusal. “I won’t try it.”

The fabric of his robe felt strange to his fingers where he touched it and around him, voices began singing to him, leaving a burning cold where they settled in his mind and just as the voices around him grew louder, sparkling fireflies flew past him. No, none of this was real, Maedhros told himself, pinching his palms with his fingernails.

Maglor rolled his eyes, then looked at him in a way that was considered strange at best. “Nelyo, it’s only alcohol.”

Just then, a hand wandered up Maedhros’ thigh and wouldn’t his skin have felt so strange just a second ago, he would have suspected Maglor to be responsible for it. Now, he remained quiet.

Maedhros raised an eyebrow and regarded his brother for a while in silence, considering. “You are certain?”

Maglor nodded. “Aye.”

What harm would come from trying Maedhros asked himself? “A small glass. Not more.” He agreed, even though a tiny, angry part of him was chiding him for it.

Maglor’s face lit up. “With pleasure.”

He filled the glass much more than Maedhros had wished for, pushing it towards Maedhros on the table.

“Thank you,” Maedhros said, lifting it to his lips only to have Maglor gesturing wildly beside him. “No, no, no, that’s not how it is done,” he all but squeaked.

Maedhros stopped the motion of his arm, glass half-way between the table and his face and eyed Maglor suspiciously.

“That is how it’s done.”

Offering Maedhros a spoon prepared with a sugar cube and taking one for himself, Maglor demonstrated how it was supposed to be drunk. It was a science to itself, Maedhros concluded, watching Maglor carefully balance the spoon on the rim of the glass before he poured ice-cold water over it. The green drink turned immediately cloudy upon it, looking even unhealthier than before, just like the sulphurous pools at the mountain slopes. As to prove a point, Maglor drank it in one go and began to prepare another one for himself.

“Now it’s your turn.”  

Maedhros hesitated.

“What are you afraid of, dearest brother? To lose control?” Maglor asked, pouring water into his glass

“No. In fact, it’s about how I am ever supposed to get you home.”

Maglor shrugged, eyelids fluttering. “So about getting home, this fuss is all about? We don’t have to? There’s the possibility to simply sleep here –“

Maedhros interrupted him, quite angrily. “Surely not!”

At last, he poured water into his drink and took a sip. It tasted better than it looked like.

Eyes wide but sort of unfocused, Maglor stared at him.

“Káno!” Maedhros said, lowering his voice distinctly, making certain not to be overheard, “We’ve not been here longer than probably two hours. In that time I was offered more times than I could count assistance to have my restrictive garments removed, invited to a threesome and have been asked three times if I was willing to pose as a model by your artist’s friends –“

Though Maglor still proclaimed the drink to be only alcohol, Maedhros doubted it. He had only drunken a small amount of yet a feeling of lucid drunkenness began to spread through his entire body together with a strange warmth he usually didn’t feel when drunk.

“You aren’t genuinely surprised, are you?” Maglor cut in.

Maedhros shook his head in disbelief. “Not as a normal model,” he defended himself. Sometimes he had posed for their mother, “as a nude model.”

Somehow Maglor didn’t understand what Maedhros’ problem was. “Well, let me tell you from experience it could be much worse,” he said, laughing weirdly and in that moment, Maedhros knew it wasn’t only alcohol rushing through his brother’s veins, “what if I asked you?”

Maedhros almost dropped the glass. “Asked me what?”

“To pose for me .. nude. I would quite like that.”

“By Varda’s tits, Káno! I am your brother.”

Maglor hugged him tight for a second before pulling back with a grin. “What of it?” he asked as if it was the most ordinary question to ask his own brother. “That is only beneficial. It’s always quite awkward to pose for strangers.”

Steadying his trembling fingers on the edge of the table, Maedhros was exasperated. “Are you telling me that you’ve posed for nude drawings yourself, Káno, that there are drawings of you, wearing nothing, circulating around Tirion as wanking material?”

Maglor looked at him with puppy eyes. Maedhros blinked just to make certain it was not only a fantasy, but his brother still glanced at him with his dark brown eyes that could set a soul on fire.

_‘No, wait,’_ it screamed in Maedhros’ head, and suddenly he felt cold and hot at the same time. He stared at Maglor, the thought rolling back and forth in his head like pebbles. “And why do you want to have nude drawings of me in the first place? No Kano, don’t tell me the answer is what I think it is.” Maedhros demanded, voice low and furious.

Looking down in defeat, Maglor said, “Might be.”

_No. No!_

By now, Maedhros did not care if he was overheard or not, his voice developing a life of his own. “You can’t be serious. You just cannot be serious. No matter what you have consumed, saying so is entirely out of place. We’re leaving. Now.”

Maglor’s shoulders straightened and he sounded excited. “To pose for me?”

For the blink of an eye Maedhros felt fingers brush against his thigh in a manner it was completely improper. To neither of it, Maedhros replied, at least not vocally. Instead, he grabbed Maglor tightly by the arm and yanked him upwards rather violently. Naturally, Maglor was protesting loudly and therefore many eyes rested on the unfolding drama. Maedhros would have none of it. Placing one arm around Maglor’s waist and lifting Maglor’s own across his shoulders where he held it, he began to walk his brother away from the crowds.

As they left the little fires were still burning and the songs still filled the air as if the night had just begun. Maedhros drew in a deep breath as soon as they were out of sight, forcing his heartbeat to slow down but no matter how hard he tried, the words Maglor had said in his hallucinogenic state would not leave. They sent Maedhros’ mind reeling and set his body ablaze in a way they should not.

*

  



	2. Chapter 2

*

Their way back home through Tirion’s deserted streets was not exactly long but to Maedhros it seemed as if they weren’t making any progress at all. Little wonder with Maglor clinging to him as the drunkard he was and more than once, Maedhros was grateful that they didn’t meet anyone along the way.

At one point Maglor complained about having forgotten to pick up the robe he had initially worn, pleading with Maedhros to go back to the garden again to retrieve it.

_ ‘No,’ _ Maedhros had told him.

They definitely would not.

Getting this far, which actually wasn’t far at all, had taken almost an hour. Maedhros had even offered to retrieve it the next day himself because judging from his brother’s miserable state right then, Maglor would be unfit to go anywhere at all tomorrow.

As if on purpose Maglor slowed down more and more the closer they got to their home. Maedhros was not quite certain of it, but he had a strong suspicion.

Or was it rather his own fault?

Despite not feeling exactly drunk, Maedhros’s legs had grown strangely heavy and weak with every step he took, adding to the burden of basically carrying Maglor’s weight almost by himself because Maglor was not cooperating – at all.

Guiding Maglor’s hand back around his waist, Maedhros muttered under his breath, “That green drink ... I don’t believe you that it was only alcohol,” and was surprised when Maglor actually answered him.

“Damn you, it was. It is called Absinthe and is quite popular these days among my friends. It is potent, I give you that, but it’s no drug –” Then, Maglor paused as if his mind was searching for some useful information in Maedhros’s face. To be looked at like this made Maedhros quite uncomfortable but he didn’t say anything.

“What did you eat?” Maglor asked all of sudden.

Quite startled, Maedhros blinked. “ _ Eat? _ ”

Maglor’s voice was unsteady when he inquired with several interruptions, “Yes. Did you eat anything?”

Maedhros didn’t comprehend the sudden alarm in his brother’s eyes, “Of course I ate. A few of those chocolate cookies. They were quite good, actually.”

At that Maglor burst out laughing and Maedhros was afraid that half of Tirion would wake from his bell-like laughter. It took Maglor a good while to find his voice back. “Chocolate cookies? Oh dearest brother,” he said before a fit of giggles overwhelmed him. “You’re greener behind your ears than I have ever thought. What you mistook for chocolate was in fact dried gum from the weed that so readily was smoked that night.”

A pause; a smile, then Maglor smiled at Maedhros. “It’s odd though, usually it is quite relaxing but you are still so – tense.”

_ Tense.  _ There the accursed word was yet again, making him tense all the more.

Maedhros shot him a sidelong glance.

“I might be of help?” Although Maglor tried to sound humorous, he didn’t manage it, Maedhros thought. He rather sounded like a drunken, love-sick idiot and perhaps his brother was? Because just a second later, actions followed the words as Maglor apparently thought it a good idea to let his arm slip off Maedhros’ waist, placing it deliberately on Maedhros’ buttocks, kneading them.

“Káno stop that.” Maedhros wished for his voice to sound stronger and fiercer, which it absolutely did not. Nevertheless, Maglor stopped with a short mutter of protest, before he lost himself in a incomprehensible fit of giggles.

Just how much Maedhros wished to be home already – or perhaps not, because with Maglor still giggling like this he would alarm the entire household. Coming home drunk was one thing, coming home like  _ that _ a different matter entirely and their father’s reaction wasn’t even what bothered Maedhros most, not that he did anticipate the scolding though. The worst would be Curufin with his incredible light sleep and before his inner eye Maedhros saw Curufin peeking through the open door, smirking.

Maedhros spun Maglor around, placing both of his hands on each of Maglor’s shoulder. “Listen!” Maedhros said, trying to sound authoritative when he knew he was not. “It’s not far from home now and I would highly appreciate it if you could for once keep your mouth shut. I have no desire to be seen like this by anyone, and neither do you, I take it?”

“Nah,” Maglor weakly muttered, trying to slip a hand beneath the robe on Maedhros’ collar.

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “Good. And stop groping me, by Manwë’s balls.”

Maglor indeed stopped. “You know .. swearing, you sound incredible attractive.”

To that Maedhros didn’t say anything at all.

 

*

Much to Maedhros’ surprise they indeed managed to sneak back into the house without raising immediate alarm. Maglor still clung to him, pressing against his side but at least the giggles had ceased. As they passed Maedhros’ own room, he felt Maglor trying to turn around as if he was about to enter it. “That is not your room.”

Maglor shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Maedhros did not respond. Instead, he continued to march his swaying brother down the corridor towards the next room, which actually was Maglor’s own.

Thankfully, the door was unlocked, a fact that surprised Maedhros. He would never leave the house with his door unlocked but then, thinking further on it he had to admit that the twins were hardly as interested in Maglor’s belongings as they were in Maedhros’ own.

Once inside a chaotic mess greeted Maedhros’ eye. Clothes lay everywhere – on the bed, the floor, even the two armchairs were occupied with glittering tunics that Maedhros had never seen before. Before Maedhros could say anything about the chaos, Maglor wrestled free of his hold and began undressing, throwing the tunic on a nearby pile of clothes. Maedhros was glad that it stopped right there and the grey breeches remained untouched.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to deal with Maglor wearing nothing at all, not today, recalling the inappropriate remarks earlier.

Then, only clad in breeches, Maglor fell down in one of the arm chairs in such a dramatic manner with his legs dangling over the armrest that Maedhros groaned. On the small table between the two identical chairs stood several bottles of alcohol, whiskey, wine and cider, together with clean and dirty glasses alike, Maedhros observed, partly to force his gaze away from Maglor’s bare chest.

Maglor’s arm reached out to the whiskey bottle.

Maedhros shook his head. “Don’t you think you have had enough already?”

Maglor looked at him unfazed, filling the glass to the brim. “Hardly. Want some, too?”

“No.” Maedhros was about to say something more but then did not.

Maglor rolled the glass in his hand before he took a large sip, looking intensely at Maedhros in a way that was so openly obscene and offensive, a silent challenge, that it robbed Maedhros off his breath. There was only the faintest hint of red across Maglor’s cheekbones, and Maedhros wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been  _ staring _ .

Maedhros knew that by all means he should bid his brother a good night and leave. He always could return tomorrow to hold the conversation that truly was necessary between them and then, perhaps, Maglor would actually listen to him. Tonight, he would achieve exactly nothing, no matter how patiently he tried. Maglor was completely out of his mind, though Maedhros still thought his brother could at least make an effort to behave. From personal experience with being drunk Maedhros new such a thing was possible.

He should leave.

He should leave Maglor to his own intoxicated misery but Maedhros found he could not.

Beneath the feelings of confusion Maglor’s words and touches had provoked, worry began to bubble.

Maedhros did not leave.

_ What if harm came to him because I left him alone? _

It was ridiculous, Maedhros knew. After all, it was not the first time Maglor had come home like this and it would certainly be not the last time. But then, Maglor was not someone who asked for help until it became absolutely necessary.

_ What if …? _

Maedhros would never forgive himself. Even then, he felt the nightmares crawl into his mind whilst all the while Maglor watched him. Smiling, whispering despite not speaking with his fingers idly playing with a strand of dark hair as if it wasn’t his own brother he was looking at.

Despite knowing it was fruitless effort Maedhros walked over towards Maglor sat, standing before him, arms crossed and for once he wished the small table wasn’t made of glass so that he could slam his fist onto it. “What were you thinking to smoke away the night like this? The filthy suggestions? The nudes, the touches, the inappropriate remarks?”

Confronted directly, Maglor blanched, his hands clenching around the glass. His eyes narrowed a little but apart from that he betrayed no emotion. His face smoothed into a mask of indifference as Maedhros observed, though it seemed as if he was about to say something. Maedhros waited but Maglor didn’t say anything at all.

Instead, Maglor rose from the chair with the glass still in hand keeping a distance of two steps between them for which Maedhros was grateful. With Maglor being smaller than Maedhros himself, his brother had to look up to meet Maedhros’ eyes. That Maglor did. With kohl-framed eyes he looked at Maedhros as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, feigning the innocence Maglor had lost along the way.

Although Maedhros knew the child-like innocence was all fake he felt his heartbeat sped up by the way Maglor looked at him.

He hated Maglor for it; hated himself for the reaction all the more.

Maedhros swallowed, then took a step backwards. He knew that in the silence that fell he should speak out his concerns and cut off any further advances before they even were voiced.

He never did.

Instead, Maedhros looked back at Maglor; at those blue glowing eyes with a thousand emotions dancing through them and from there he looked down further, down to his brother’s perfectly shaped body. Then, he quickly looked away.

Maglor’s voice cut like a sword through Maedhros’ hazy mind, finally giving an answer to the previous questions thrown at him. “You wonder why I so readily take hallucinogens and indulge in festivities I know you do not approve of at all? Do you truly wish to know?”

Maedhros was not so certain anymore.

“The answer is an easy one, Maitimo, though you might not like it. They make me forget what I want and feel, at least for a little while. They set me free, in the same way my music does. For a brief and fleeting moment they numb my senses and quench those desires I myself have long not understood.”

Blinking several times, Maedhros stared down at Maglor in bewilderment, guilt and regret washing over him like the waves thrumming against Alqualondë’s pier.

Unfazed, Maglor went on. “Perhaps, you might wonder why I invited you year after year to come along? My reasons were selfish ones, I readily admit that. Seeing me in such a devastated state, drunk and drugged, would immediately spark your protectiveness. I had little doubt about that. I was less certain what your reaction to seeing me flirt with strangers might be, I grant you that, though my hopes were that jealousy would flare. I was not mistaken.”

Maedhros’ mind was reeling, unable to fully process what his brother had said. Maglor took a steady step closer, invading Maedhros’ personal space. He allowed it, though it only added to the nausea he began to feel.

Maglor set the glass down onto the table, then looked right back into Maedhros’ face. “I saw you Maitimo, I saw you well. The little tremble of your hand as you watched me, thinking I wasn’t watching you. The briefest flitter of sadness hushing across your face, the jealousy, the anger. See? It is not only you being able to observe others though you might think it is not so.”

Maglor took another step forward so that their bodies almost touched, placing his hands on each of Maedhros’ shoulders.

Maedhros knew he should bat his brother’s hands away; knew that no good would come from allowing it, should deny everything what Maglor had hinted. He knew that he simply had to, yet he remained frozen, guilt-tripped by Maglor’s previous words. And although Maglor’s hands did not move, even through the fabric of his robes his own skin grew hot to the touch. 

The silence in which Maglor simply regarded him stretched until, recalling Maglor’s confession, it appeared to Maedhros that he had spoken without even a hint of slur. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Maedhros remarked, “You appear to be quite sober now.”

“Because I am.”

In confusion, Maedhros’ head twitched.

Maglor smiled. “It is quite an easy thing to pretend that I am drunk when indeed I am not, even easier to pretend to be drugged to someone without experience with drugs at all. All sorts of misbehavior under its influence are so readily forgiven once morning comes, it’s being done all the time. Had I seen true rejection in your eyes the moment I touched your thigh, all too easily I could have proclaimed once questioned that in fact I do not remember having done such a questionable thing.” Maglor’s voice dropped distinctly, a ghostly fingertip now brushing against Maedhros’ cheek for a fleeting moment.

Maedhros breath hitched and he closed his eyes against the assault of Maglor’s touch, against his breath washing over his face and most of all against the way he looked at him.

Maglor’s hand was back on Maedhros’ shoulder as he went on. “But that is not what I saw, not at all, with your emotions unguarded because you thought me drunk.”

Inhaling deeply, Maedhros opened his eyes again, thinking that he better had not.

“Nor is it what I see now.”

The statement, so casually remarked hung in the silence. There were too many emotions coiling in Maedhros’ guts, all tangled and twined and so incredibly confusing that he felt unable contain them as he usually would. His darkest secret so casually and purpose unveiled felt like a slap right into his face.

Maedhros’ voice was a mess. “You lied to me?”

Maglor’s smile was now a challenging one. “Yes,” he responded unfazed, brazen even. “Because you wished to be deceived.”

Maedhros’ mouth dropped open. He was mad at Maglor for the carefully planned deception, for everything his brother had done under the disguise of drunkenness.

But then, wasn’t it his own fault, just as Maglor said it was?

Gnawing, Maedhros had to admit that Maglor had a point there and the admittance brought forth memories of how he had wished his secret to be discovered. The blame was his own to take – had he been more careful Maglor would never have found out, all remaining self-assurance dissipating from his body. He wished to bury his face into Maglor’s shoulder in an attempt to block out the conflicting emotions and the rest of the world, to finally let go of all the doubts and worries.

Without words, Maglor seemed to understand his brother’s distress. “Even now you wish to be deceived.” The words found freedom against Maedhros’ lips as Maglor, standing on his toes had leaned in.

This time, shaking, Maedhros did not try to deny it.

Maglor’s lips were brushing Maedhros’s own so lightly that it almost felt if he was still caught in one of his dreams. It was nothing more than a clumsy brush of lips against lips, the moment gone before Maedhros had fully realized what had happened.

Nevertheless, Maedhros felt his legs grow weak.

“Kano, you should not,” Maedhros said, so softly that he hated himself for it; he even wondered if he had spoken it at all because Maglor did not respond or obey. He knew he should be shocked and outraged; knew that he should immediately put an end to whatever Maglor had done and was about to do.

Rooted to the ground, Maedhros did exactly nothing.

Maglor’s lips grazed Maedhros’ ear as far as he could reach him, his fingers trailing along his high cheekbones and despite of the warmth of the room, Maedhros shivered, fighting against the demons who whispered their encouragement to him. “We should not,” was the last bit of protest Maedhros managed.

“No?” Maglor asked, looking at Maedhros with those forsaken puppy eyes again, head slightly tilted. “And why should we not when even father gets away with it?”

Maedhros’s voice shook, not only from what Maglor just had implied. “Káno!”

The pressure of Maglor’s body pressing against his own was numbing, the heat suffocating. What was worse though was the way Maglor stared at him, hard and hypnotic, with his gaze fixed at his lips.

“What?” Maglor asked, his palms wandering from Maedhros’ shoulders down his chest. “Your outrage doesn’t make it true no less. We all have wondered towards where he wanders sometimes, have we not? A while ago I couldn’t fight against my curiosity anymore,” Maglor confessed.

Maedhros’s eyes grew wide. “Don’t say you’ve followed him.”

Maglor laughed. “Of course I did, quite surprised when I saw him slip inside uncle’s house. I was curious, Nelyo, so I climbed the tree in front of uncle’s house,” All of a sudden, Maglor blushed, then giggled like a child. “That hour was quite .. educational.”

Maedhros could not quite believe it; not what Maglor’s words implied, not that his own brother had spied upon their father. “By Varda’s tits, what is wrong with you?”

Silence fell between them like a curtain and Maglor looked like a beaten dog and immediately, Maedhros felt apologetic for the harshness of his words.

All sparks of excitement were gone from Maglor’s voice as he stated, “That I desire you is wrong with me, I guess.” The look of shame and guilt in Maglor’s eyes was like a punch into Maedhros’ guts. “That the suspicions I had about you were confirmed today and yet here you stand before me, pretending you don’t desire me, when even now you think of things you shouldn’t even dare to be thinking about.”

Defeat and failure numbed Maedhros’ senses, guilt and worry too but amidst all the troubles of his mind a thousand other emotions sprang to life, with thrill being the most prominent one among them.

Maedhros breathed in, jaw slack with defeat. “I – I am sorry,” at last he said and he meant it.

Long had he fought and struggled against the images that simply would not leave until he gave in with a feeling of sick guilt night after night, just moments away from sweet release and the promise of untroubled sleep to follow. Perhaps Maedhros struggled even now against the waves of desire crushing against every fiber of his being. He simply did not know.

The way Maglor looked at him was heartbreaking and Maedhros realized that never before anyone had looked at him in such a way. It was like a promise, like a cure for all his sins, a bright firework of reassurance when again he felt his knees grow weak.    

“Don’t be,” said Maglor, his fingers trembling quite nervously against Maedhros’ cheeks. And then he kissed him fully, in a way he had never before bestowed or taken a kiss. The initial shock of the intensity of it made Maedhros almost flinch, because by no means Maglor should be kissing him like that, nor should he respond as he did. Carefully, his own hands have risen towards Maglor’s face, cupping it as he moved his lips against his brother’s. Kissing Maglor felt as natural as breathing. There was a shape to all the things he had wanted many a night, the guilt included, but then it’s not; it was only Maglor’s fingers as soft as sun-kissed petals against his skin, his lips somewhat smiling against his own. Guilt and discomfort vanished like the mist across the meadow with the sun, exchanged by something greater, far more pleasurable. And then there is more – Maglor’s laugh, like chiming bells, the way Maglor watched him, emotions barely concealed. 

They looked at each other, breathing hard until Maglor sunk back into the chair, partly guiding, partly dragging Maedhros with him. For once he didn’t protest but simply let it happen, settling down right in his brother’s lap.

It must have been a sight to behold because undoubtedly the chair, comfortable as it may be, was distinctly too small to hold them both so in the end, Maedhros’s legs dangled awkwardly across the armrest.

It didn’t matter.

Not to Maedhros, nor to Maglor.

All that mattered were their inexperienced hands upon each other, their lips and smiles.

For all Maedhros could imagine, he wanted to feel Maglor’s hands against his face; his fingers threading through his hair; those lips against his own for the rest of the night and many more to come. But most of all Maedhros desired to see that smile again, the way Maglor had looked at him just a second ago, longing burning so brightly in his eyes that it had Maedhros robbed off his breath. For the first time tonight it was Maedhros who took the initiative, burying his head in the crook of Maglor’s neck, placing kisses along his skin.

He was instantly rewarded by a content sigh and arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Gasping, Maglor tried to control the uncontrollable jerks of his body when Maedhros sucked all too hungrily.

In Maglor’s hold he felt defenseless.

In Maglor’s arms he felt alive.

This was madness, of the most wonderful sort.

With every kiss bestowed against his skin, his doubts seemed to vanish one by one, at least till morning came.

“Stop that,” Maglor murmured, and though not saying it, Maedhros knew exactly what Maglor meant. He’d always been rational and overthinking to a degree that even his own father had chided him a few times for it. “I have heard that those cookies have quite .. the effect in sexual matters, it would be quite a waste ... you know.”

“Shut up!” One hand tangled in Maglor’s hair, Maedhros pulled his brother’s face towards him and captured his lips into a kiss. Despite not exactly wanting it, he was rough, partly surprised that Maglor didn’t protest his roughness. But then, Maglor kissed back with equal fire, wrestling with Maedhros’ robes until his hand brushed against his thigh. Maedhros bit back the verbal protest he wasn’t quite feeling, although he had to admit he was quite nervous, feeling Maglor’s hands trail upwards. Already then he was close to orgasm.

Maglor spoke in playful exaggeration, tipping against Maedhros’ bare thigh. “So you are truly not wearing anything underneath.”

As much as he usually loved to listen to his brother’s melodious voice, he couldn’t stand Maglor talking nonstop right now. “ _ Shut up!” _

And then, lips and tongues moving against each other, Maglor’s hand was between his legs, touching the damp and hot skin until Maedhros shook in his brother’s arms like a leaf in the wind with thoughts and doubts shattering into a thousand pieces.

Soon enough, Maedhros’ hand tightened in Maglor’s hair. He didn’t last, didn’t wish to last as he lost himself in feelings suppressed for too many years to count. Maedhros whimpered the moment Maglor bit his lip; moaned when his brother whispered his name against his lips as he climaxed all across Maglor’s hand.

Maedhros, still recovering and quite sleepy, didn’t notice Maglor’s squirming beneath him at first, only when his brother suggested, “Let us retire to somewhere more comfortable,” and surprised by his own reaction, Maedhros happily agreed.

 

*

When Maedhros woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own he wondered what they were to each other now, wondered what it was they had become after tonight. And then, as he rolled to his side, he saw Maglor’s tousled hair and eyes that were still clouded by sleep. Nevertheless, Maglor watched him in return, offering Maedhros the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.  

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the inspo and the beta read. You know who you are <3


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